“Listen, Zander… can you please just go into the stands and fucking cheer for me like a normal boyfriend for five goddamn seconds? We can talk after I win.” And there’s that wide expression again, chased by a blush that blossoms across his cheeks and a smile that’s brighter than the floodlights above us. “Boyfriend?” “Oh, my God. Zander—” “You said boyfriend.” “Fuck’s sake, go sit down.”
